


One Thing, To Do, Three Words, For You

by DaisyErina



Category: Haikyuu!!, Miraculous Ladybug, Voltron: Legendary Defender, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Polysexual, Romance, Send me prompts, multi fandom, multi ship, polyamorous, send me ships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24294076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyErina/pseuds/DaisyErina
Summary: I've been really into poly fanfic lately, so I've decided to write my own. I've tagged the ships and fandoms that I currently plan to include. There may be more, it depends on what appeals to me. You're welcome to suggest ships, and pretty please suggest plots!
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou/Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou/Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei, Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto, Bokuto Koutarou/Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei, Chisaki Kai | Overhaul/Dabi/Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko, James Griffin/Keith/Lance (Voltron), James Griffin/Keith/Ryan Kinkade/Lance, Keith/Lance/Shiro (Voltron), Lance/Lotor/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	1. TsuKuBoAka - You're My Cuppycake

**You’re My Cuppycake**  
**Kuroo x Tsukishima x Akaashi x Bokuto**  
**Summary:** On your eighteenth birthday, time freezes for twelve hours for all except you and your soulmate.  
It’s Tsukishima’s eighteenth birthday. He already knows he has three soulmates – time has frozen around him before, on (what he assumes are) their birthdays. What happens when they all come to his birthday party?  
Words: 2,653

Tsukishima Kei was Not a Party Guy. He’d insisted as much every single September, to his family, to his best friend, and to the gaggle of outgoing volleyball players he doesn’t want to admit are his friends. Deep down (really deep, keep digging), he appreciates their support. He knows their enthusiasm comes from a place love, but he really doesn’t understand their obsession with celebrating another year of his life. But it gets him free strawberry shortcake, both from the team and from his mother, so he tolerates everyone’s antics.  
When Tanaka had suggested throwing a party during volleyball practice, Tsukishima had launched a volleyball towards his face. He narrowly missed, only saved by Nishinoya ninja receiving it just before it made contact. The blond was disappointed that he missed, but the indignant squawk that fled Tanaka’s mouth was entertaining enough.  
Tanaka and Nishinoya had graduated the year previous, but on their breaks from college, they returned to their hometown to practice with the now third years. Tsukishima would never admit it, but he missed his upperclassmen when they were away.  
Yamaguchi was torn by the suggestion – on one hand, he loved Tsukki, and he wanted to throw his best friend a killer eighteenth birthday party. But he also knew Tsukki very well, and knew that a fancy party with tons of people all focused on him was the exact opposite of what he would want.  
Unfortunately for Tsukishima, Tanaka rarely listened to anyone’s opinion besides his own and Nishinoya’s, and thus, a party was planned. The tall blond knew all about it, of course. Tanaka couldn’t keep a secret to save his life, and he’d caught the two upperclassmen whispering it about it on more than one occasion, weakly waving him off the subject with a “Not everything is about you, specs!” He’d also confronted Yamaguchi, and with a whiny sigh, the shorter boy had given in, feeding Tsukki every detail he knew about the party.  
It was too late for him to back out. He could simply not attend, of course, but Tanaka had gotten permission from his mother to host it at her house, so not attending required the blond to not go home, and that wasn’t particularly favorable. He supposed he could hide away in his room, lock the door, but Yamaguchi knew all of the side entrances to his room, and whether or not Tsukishima wanted to admit it, he despised disappointing his best friend.

With much complaining, much bribery, and much insistence from his freckled best friend, Tsukishima attended his own birthday party. All of his current and former volleyball teammates were there, as well as a handful of acquaintances from other past teams. He recognized Oikawa and Iwaizumi, deciding that they must have come due to Oikawa and Kageyama outgrowing their rivalry and becoming friends. He also caught sight of Kenma, and did his heart lurch in his chest at the sight of Kuroo? Uhm, no, excuse you, it didn’t. Tsukishima shook his head, quickly walking away from the former captain.  
“Tsukki!” a deep voice shouted, and it was definitely not Yamaguchi’s. With a sigh, the blond turned, knowing full well from whom the shout had emanated. He had long since given up on trying to correct the owl on how to say his name.  
“Bokuto,” Tsukishima greeted with a nod. The black-and-silver-haired man had grown up rather well, and _damn_ , the blond’s heart lurched again. Fuck. What was wrong with him?  
“Happy birthday, Tsukishima,” came another voice, and Tsukishima glanced behind Bokuto to find Akaashi offering him a soft smile.  
Another lurch. Dread pooled in his belly as Tsukishima put the pieces together. He may be apathetic, but he wasn’t stupid. He understood that the previous three instances were time froze around him were his soulmates’ birthdays, and he had a pretty good idea now of why his heart was reacting so strongly to three certain party-goers. Paling, he excused himself and ducked out of the room, bounding up the stairs two at a time in the direction of his room.

He only managed to hide for roughly ten minutes before knuckles pounded on the other side of his door, and Tsukishima sighed heavily. He knew Yamaguchi would come to find him, if only to save him from Tanaka and Nishinoya tracking him down.  
Tsukishima rose from his bed and unlocked the door, allowing his freckled friend to enter. Yamaguchi offered him a sympathetic smile.  
“It’s almost time.”  
A glance to the clock hanging on his wall had a sigh drawing from the blond’s lips. It was only a few minutes from midnight – from the time he would find his soulmate. Soulmates, rather. Yamaguchi, bless him, had at least convinced the party throwers to do it the day before Tsukishima’s actual birthday, so he could spend the day (and the frozen time) doing whatever he pleased instead of entertaining guests he didn’t invite.  
“Are you nervous?” the freckled boy inquired softly.  
“No,” Tsukishima lied, knowing that Yamaguchi could see through him.  
The darker haired male simply nodded. “Do you have an idea who it is?”  
“They,” the blond corrected weakly, drawing a confused expression from his best friend.  
“They?”  
Tsukishima sighed, watching the seconds on the clock tick down. “Time has frozen for me three times already, before tonight. That means I have three soulmates who have all turned eighteen already.”  
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Yamaguchi pouted, slightly genuinely hurt by his best friend’s secrecy.  
“I didn’t want to believe it,” the bespectacled boy shrugged. “I didn’t think I even had one soulmate, much less three. I was hoping it was a fluke.”  
“You don’t think so now?” Yamaguchi inquired.  
“I don’t know what to think,” Tsukishima replied, and that was at least half true. He knew that his three soulmates were downstairs enjoying the party, and he knew who each one was. But he wasn’t entirely sure he could believe it until-  
The clock struck midnight, and the blond glanced up to see his best friend frozen in place, head tilted adorably, gazing at Tsukishima with soft eyes. The taller boy winced as he moved towards the door, deciding to go downstairs and see his fate with his own two eyes.  
Said eyes scanned every single form in his house as he descended the stairs and made his way to the living room. It appeared that everyone was frozen, and he felt a strange twinge of disappointment at the thought that his alleged soulmates may have left already.  
“There’s the birthday boy!” came a deep voice, followed by a laugh. Tsukishima gulped as he turned to find Kuroo standing in his kitchen, sipping from a plastic cup, a grin on his lips. Damn, he had filled out over the years. Still tall and relatively thin, he was _built_ , his bulging muscles visible through the black t-shirt and unbuttoned red flannel he wore. Long, toned legs were wrapped in black skinny jeans and the shape of his thighs did fuzzy things to Tsukishima’s belly.  
“Aw, hell yeah!” a loud voice cheered. “I knew it was Tsukki!”  
The blond turned to see Bokuto bounding into the room, a fist thrusted triumphantly into the air. His muscular arms were on full display with his muscle tank hanging loosely off his bulky frame. Khaki shorts adorned his legs, leaving his calves in plain view, and wow, Tsukishima never knew he was such a leg man.  
“It’s nice to finally have our fourth,” Akaashi commented, offering the blond a smile. His navy button up fit him perfectly, clinging to his arms without restricting movement. Tsukishima couldn’t tell you what pants Akaashi was wearing – his eyes were glued to the scraps of chest visible due to the former setter leaving the top buttons of his shirt undone.  
“We were hoping it was you,” Kuroo commented.  
“How did you know you had a fourth?” Tsukishima questioned. “I only knew I had three because you’re all older than me, so time froze on each of your birthdays.”  
“We felt it,” Akaashi replied simply. “We were together for each of our eighteenth birthdays, so we knew it was at least us three, but we felt like there was something missing.”  
“We’re totally happy with each other,” Bokuto insisted quickly. “But we felt like there might be one more. We were hoping we had one more!”  
“And you wanted it… to be me?” the blond clarified, brow furrowed.  
He moved to sit on the couch, which was miraculously empty. It only fit three people comfortably, but that didn’t stop Kuroo, Bokuto, and Akaashi from squishing onto it with him. Kuroo sat on his left, Akaashi on his right, and Bokuto threw himself across all three of their laps.  
“We like you, Tsukki!” the owl-haired male grinned.  
“We’ve had feelings for you for some time,” Akaashi explained.  
“It started during that first training camp you guys attended,” Kuroo continued. “Remember when we had that three-on-three practice night?”  
Tsukishima nodded. He recalled finding all three of the upperclassmen attractive, and how hard he tried to fight off three potential crushes.  
“We all had a thing for you then,” Akaashi stated, hesitantly placing a hand atop the blond’s. When he wasn’t shoved away, the former setter linked his fingers with the middle blocker’s.  
“We won’t rush you into anything,” Kuroo assured as he slid an arm behind Tsukishima’s head, grinning as the blond leaned back into the embrace. “We’re already all dating, and we’d like you to join us, but we’ll take things at your pace.”  
Tsukishima nodded slowly, and found that he really didn’t mind their presence or their contact as much as he usually did. He suddenly found himself grateful that time would be frozen for the next eleven hours or so. He wanted to spend time with his three soulmates without everyone else’s annoying questions.

Kuroo stood proudly before the kitchen counter, hands perched on his hips. Before him sat a rather tasty-looking strawberry shortcake, if he did say so himself. He wasn’t much of a baker, but he was one hell of a cook, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to give his soulmate a homemade cake for his twenty-first birthday.  
“It smells good in here!” Bokuto exclaimed from the hallway, drifting closer to the kitchen. He paused in the doorway, eyes widening as they zeroed in on Kuroo’s masterpiece. “Bro, that looks amazing!”  
The former middle blocker turned to face Bokuto with a grin. “Thanks! There’s leftover whipped cream in the bowl, if you want to try it.”  
The owl murmured a “Hell yeah!” before beelining towards said bowl, lifting the rubber spatula from within and stuffing it into his mouth. He moaned around the cream, turning to face Kuroo with lidded eyes. “If Tsukki doesn’t annihilate his cake, I will.”  
Kuroo barked out a laugh, stepping around the black-and-silver-haired man in the direction of the fridge. He pulled the door open and left it there before turning back to the counter, picking up the cake as gingerly as he could muster. Holding his breath, he slid the cake onto the previously cleared shelf inside the fridge, exhaling in relief as he closed the door.  
The front door clicked, and both men in the kitchen froze before Akaashi’s black curls came into view. Kuroo visibly deflated before perking back up and demanding a “welcome home” kiss from his boyfriend. Akaashi obliged him, turning to peck Bokuto as well before placing two large bags of takeout containers on the kitchen table.  
“When is Kei getting home?” the former setter inquired as he began setting the table. Kuroo fetched plates, cups, and chopsticks from various cabinets, handing them to Akaashi to be aesthetically placed.  
“Soon,” the raven-haired man replied after casting a glance at the clock on the stove. “Yamaguchi’s been spoiling him today; he should be in a good mood.”  
“I think he’s grown to like his birthday,” Akaashi commented with a proud smile. “Not even the idiot duo irritate him as much as they used to.”  
“My, how our Tsukki has grown,” Bokuto pretended to weep, earning a playful shove from Kuroo.  
The front door clicked again, and all three men froze as they listened to Tsukishima’s voice bidding goodbye to his best friend. They could hear him slipping off his shoes, stepping into his house slippers, and hanging his keys on the hook beside the door. He stepped around the corner, pausing in his tracks at the sight of his three boyfriends in the kitchen.  
“What are you three up to?” the blond inquired as he continued forward. Akaashi was closest, allowing him the first hug and peck of lips.  
“Happy birthday,” he murmured against Tsukishima’s lips. Despite having been in a relationship with these three men for the past three years, and knowing from annual experience that they loved to celebrate birthdays, the sentiment still brought a blush dancing across the blond’s cheeks.  
“Thanks,” he murmured just as softly before he was swept into Bokuto’s arms.  
“Happy birthday, Tsukki!” the owl cheered, wrapping the blond in a bear hug. He pulled back enough to kiss Tsukishima passionately, leaving the latter gasping when they finally parted. He barely managed to thank the owl man before he was being turned again.  
Kuroo’s slightly chilled hands caressed either side of his face, and Tsukishima melted into the touch. When they’d first begun this relationship, he’d been so shy, so inexperienced, so uncertain. Now, he was comfortable to freely kiss and cuddle and caress as much as he liked.  
Kuroo pulled him in, gingerly pressing his lips to the blond’s. Tsukishima sighed into the kiss, tilting his head to deepen it. His hands rested atop Kuroo’s, keeping him in place as their kiss continued, tongues lazily flicking at one another. They all had an unbreakable bond, but Kuroo and Tsukki’s was special, much like Akaashi and Bokuto’s. They just clicked with each other differently, and each of their kisses were different, and in that very moment, Tsukishima favored Kuroo’s style the most.  
“Happy birthday,” the former captain grinned, nipping at his boyfriend’s lower lip.  
“Thank you,” Tsukishima smiled. “Do I smell Mongolian grill?”  
“You certainly do,” Akaashi replied, taking the blond’s hand and directing his attention to the table. Tsukishima’s heart swelled in his chest.  
“Keiji,” he murmured, and Akaashi’s own heart skipped a beat as it always did whenever the blond used his given name. Tsukishima had taken longer than the other three to discard formalities and use his boyfriend’s given names, or, even more rarely, pet names. It was second nature to the other three, but the rareness of it coming from the blond made each murmur that much more special.  
“I know it’s your favorite,” Akaashi shrugged, slightly embarrassed by the unashamed fondness in the blond’s eye.  
“Let’s eat it, then,” Tsukishima smiled, and they took their places at the table. 

“There’s cake, too,” Kuroo informed the birthday boy as they finished their dinner. Bokuto gathered the containers and discarded them into the trash while Akaashi loaded dishes into the dishwasher.  
“Cake?” Tsukishima questioned. “You’ve already spoiled me enough.”  
“Tetsu made your favorite!” Bokuto beamed proudly, and Tsukishima’s heart lurched the way it had all those years ago when he discovered Kuroo was one of his soulmates.  
“You made me a birthday cake?” he clarified, watching as Kuroo pulled it from the fridge. The former captain placed the cake on the table, and Tsukishima rose from his seat to plant a loving kiss on Kuroo’s lips.  
“Thank you,” he murmured, and Kuroo grinned triumphantly. He retrieved a knife from the knife block and cut even slices of the cake, serving them with a skill that surprised even him. They sat around the table, feeding each other strawberry shortcake because they were just that soft and gay, and Tsukishima couldn’t understand why he’d once despised the idea of soulmates.


	2. Jaklance - Triple Shot

**Triple Shot**  
**James x Keith x Lance**  
**Summary:** Inspired by a Pinterest post with a list of coffee shop AUs.  
James is a favored barista at a popular café. Every day, two different customers come in for their respective orders, and James can’t for the life of him decide which one is cuter. He flirts hopelessly with each of them – what happens when they come in together and decide to flirt back?  
**Words:** 2,705

James exhaled a breath as he wiped down the counter, happy to steal a moment to breathe and relax now that the morning rush had ended. He’d never have expected, upon accepting morning shifts at a job which opened at six o’clock in the morning, that his work would be so busy.  
It was nearing nine, which meant that the second morning rush consisting of college students caffeinating before class would soon be underway. James took a large swig of his own beverage in preparation, posing at the counter with a friendly smile on his lips.  
“People-pleaser,” his coworker Ryan teased, chuckling softly.  
James turned to stick out his tongue. “That’s how I make all my tips.”  
His heart drummed in his chest in anticipation. With the pre-class crowd came a beautiful brunet with sun-kissed skin and the slightest hint of a Cuban accent. He always ordered the same thing – a large caramel frappe with extra caramel and whipped cream. James wondered how he could stomach such a sickeningly sweet drink – the usual amount of caramel he was permitted to use was sweet enough, and this cutie always asked for more, plus drizzle around the cup and atop the whipped cream. He would suck it down with a smile, shove a couple of bucks or a handful of change into the tip jar, and wave to James on his way out of the door. The barista swore that the hot Cuban winked at him once, but he convinced himself that his brain was playing tricks, teasing him with what he wanted but couldn’t have.  
James watched as the door opened and a familiar figure shuffled into view. His heart lurched in his chest, and he plucked up a plastic cup to scribble the order onto it as the brunet stepped further into the building. He had half a mind to wait for him to actually order, just in case he wanted something different, but James’ gay heart _desperately_ wanted to impress the hot guy, so he pumped an unhealthy amount of caramel over ice into the blender. He poured fresh shots and cold milk up to the appropriate measurement line and placed the lid on top, setting it to blend as the brunet approached the counter. He watched with adorably furrowed brows as James decorated the cup with caramel, poured the beverage into it, topped it with cream and more sauce, and slid it across the counter without a single word spoken.  
“Wow,” he commented after taking a tentative sip. “That was kinda hot.”  
Well, there went James’ heart. Rest in peace. He’s dead now.  
“I- uh-“ he faltered, every smooth opening line he’d practiced having fled his brain the second the brunet looked at him. “It’s just… You always come in at this time, and you always order the same thing, so I kinda wanted to impress you by having it ready, and now I realize that may have been a little creepy-“  
He was cut off by the most beautiful laugh he’d ever heard. His eyes were glued to the brunet’s lips as they wrapped around the straw, suckling on his frappe.  
“I’m flattered that you pay attention to me,” he replied, and he most definitely dropped one of his midnight blue eyes into a wink that time. He slid correct change across the counter, but instead of dropping a dollar into the tip jar, he inserted a folded piece of paper. “Don’t let anyone take your tips.”  
He spun on his heel and sauntered out of the café, and James watched the seductive sway of his hips until he was outside and rounding the corner. An elbow to his ribs brought him back to reality, and Ryan cleared his throat to alert James of the growing line of customers, with whom he was not flirting, that were rather impatiently waiting to place their orders. He mumbled apologies to every face as he scribbled names and poured shots, his eyes constantly flickering back to the piece of paper stuffed into his tip jar. 

The second rush ended, and James was ready to collapse upon the counter. He’d brewed himself another drink once he returned from his break, leaning against the counter and watching the door. It was almost noon, which meant he only had an hour left in his shift. It also meant that his other favorite customer would soon enter the building, giving James the energy boost he needed to finish his work day with a smile.  
His curiosity was eating away at his self-control, and his long fingers dipped into the glass jar stuffed with change and loose bills. Just as he grasped the scrap of paper, footsteps sounded on the other side of the counter, and James glanced up to meet the familiar smoky purple eyes of his other favorite customer. He dropped the note in surprise, smiling in what he hoped was a flirtatious manner at the raven-haired college student.  
“Can I get a large iced americano with sugar?” he requested, and James bit his tongue to stifle the urge to finish his sentence for him. Like the morning brunet, this beautiful man arrived every day and ordered the same beverage as well, but James had an inkling that he wouldn’t find the barista’s memory quite as charming.  
“Of course,” James nodded, holding a cup in one hand and a marker in the other. “Name?”  
The raven-haired male raised a brow, as if to question how the barista didn’t know his name when he came in at the same time every single day and ordered the same beverage. James worked five days a week – that was plenty of time for him to remember his regulars, wasn’t it?  
“Keith,” he replied nonchalantly, though he was silently a little disappointed that the hot barista didn’t remember him.  
James nodded, frowning as he intentionally misspelled the relatively simple name. He then brewed the Americano, filled the cup with ice and sugar, and poured the coffee overtop. He stirred it to ensure that the sugar dissolved before sliding it across the counter.  
Keith nodded in thanks as he accepted the drink and tossed a dollar into the tip jar. As he turned towards the door, he glanced down at the ink on his cup and exhaled a soft groan. Turning back to the counter, he placed the cup on top where his name was visible to the barista.  
“Is this some sort of game you play?” he inquired. “Misspelling customers’ names for fun?”  
On Keith’s cup, written in all caps Sharpie, was “Keythe.” So far, that was the furthest from his actual spelling. Initially, he’d assumed that the barista was distracted, or busy, and wasn’t paying attention. But he grew to realize that more often than not, his name would be misspelled, and he finally decided to question it.  
James offered him a sheepish grin and a deep blush. “No, it’s not a game. Not like that anyway.”  
Keith stared at him, silently urging him to explain.  
The barista exhaled loudly, ignoring the chuckle sounding from his coworker at the other end of the counter. “My buddy told me that a cool way to flirt with cute customers without being too forward is to misspell their names, so they come back and correct you and start a conversation.”  
Keith’s violet eyes widened, and James bit his lip, worried that he’d offended the college student. He watched as Keith’s expression settled, and his gaze flickered between his drink and the barista.  
His pink lips lifted into a smirk, and James nearly melted as he watched. “So you think I’m cute?” Keith taunted.  
The barista nodded dumbly as though entranced. “Yeah, I do.”  
Sipping his coffee, Keith reached towards the counter, plucking a business card from the stack beside the register. He flipped it over and snagged the pen usually employed for credit card signatures, scribbling something across the blank back side of the card. Returning the pen to its cup, he handed the card to the barista with his smirk still in place.  
“Do something about it, then,” he challenged before turning on his heel and sauntering out of the café.  
Ryan cheered loudly behind him, but James was too starstruck, frozen in place as he stared after Keith, to notice. 

When his shift ended, James was finally able to retrieve the folded piece of paper from the tip jar and read its contents. A blush dusted his cheeks upon discovering the beautiful brunet’s name- Lance- and was he assumed was his phone number. As soon as Keith had left, James had held the business card up to his face, finding a phone number there, as well.  
Damn. The phone numbers of two extremely hot regular customers were now James’ to do with as he pleased. But what should he do? Flirting with both of them felt a bit like cheating, though he wasn’t wholly committed to either boy yet.  
His hands shaking, nearly dropping his cell phone as he sat in the driver’s seat of his car, he settled on texting Lance first. The Cuban was friendlier, flirtier, and if he could pave the way smoothly, it would ease James’ nerves about texting Keith.

_To: Lance_  
_Hey! It’s James, the barista from the café!_

He waited. Impatiently. Nervously. Self-consciously.  
His phone chimed. He nearly dropped it. Again.

_From: Lance_  
_Heyyy hot stuff! U finally off work?_

James exhaled. Loudly. Nearly swooned. Loudly. 

_To: Lance_  
_Ha, yeah, just got out. What are you up to?_

_From: Lance_  
_Texting a super hot barista and waiting for him to ask me out~_

Well, fuck. James was trying to be confident, suave, in control. Lance just threw all of that out the fucking window.

_To: Lance_  
_He’s getting around to it…_  
_Would you like to go out with me tomorrow?_

_From: Lance_  
_I have classes all day :( what about Saturday?_

_To: Lance_  
_I work weekends :(_

_From: Lance_  
,em>What time do u get off?

_To: Lance_  
_1 pm._

_From: Lance_  
_Perfect! I can meet u after work!_

_To: Lance_  
_Are you sure? I’ll be kind of smelly from working, and I’d hate to make you wait if I’m needed later._

_From: Lance_  
_The café is like my favorite place in the world :) besides waiting a little extra time for u is totally worth it <3_

Don’t die, James. You can do this. Just breathe. It’s just an extremely hot guy meeting up with you after work.

_To: Lance_  
_I’d love that then._

_From: Lance_  
_YAAAAY! Omg, so excited. Ill see u Saturday!_

James replied with confirmation that he was also excited before finally starting his car and driving his lovesick butt home.

Saturday arrived, and fuck if it wasn’t the _slowest_ shift he’s _ever had_. It didn’t help that James was counting down the seconds, obsessively watching the large clock on the wall as though mentally cursing it would make time pass any faster. Ryan simply laughed whenever he caught his coworker frantically checking the time, nudging his shoulder or elbowing his side and rolling his eyes.  
It was ten minutes to one, and James’ heart was about to leap out of his chest. The door opened, and he glanced up expecting to see Lance shuffling inside, as promised. What he hadn’t counted on was Lance and Keith entering the café together, hand-in-hand, chuckling like best friends or… old lovers.  
They approached the counter together, sporting similar grins. Lance’s was wide and excited like a child in a candy store. Keith’s was small and pointed, like he’d just uncovered someone’s darkest secret.  
“Hey James!” Lance greeted loudly.  
“H-hey Lance,” the barista managed before swallowing. “Keith,” he added.  
“Hey,” Keith nodded.  
James’ manager appeared from behind him. “When you’re done with these two, you’re free to go.”  
The brunet nodded before turning back to the apparent couple. “Did you want to order anything?”  
Keith’s smirk widened. “Our usuals?”  
Ryan laughed loudly, and James felt heat overpowering his cheeks. He nodded frantically, setting to work on Keith’s americano and Lance’s frappe. Lance snickered softly to himself as though he didn’t want to embarrass the pretty barista further, but couldn’t contain his amusement. James ignored it, preparing their drinks with practiced expertise, sliding them across the counter. Keith reached into his back pocket to produce his wallet, but James reached a hand forward, shaking his head.  
“This round’s on me,” he insisted. Lance and Keith shared a look before smiling softly.  
“Okay,” Keith nodded, returning his wallet to his pocket and picking up his drink. He took a sip and hummed softly in the back of his throat.  
Lance took hold of his own beverage and swallowed a rather large gulp, moaning at the evident extra caramel that James never skipped out on.  
“Let me go clock out and then I’m all yours,” the barista informed his visitors, freezing in his tracks when he realized exactly what he’d said. Ryan could be heard howling at the other side of the counter, on his way to the break room to hang up his own apron and clock out a well. Sinking into himself, James made his way to the back, away from prying eyes.  
When he returned, he found Lance and Keith seated rather cozily at a table by the wall. Against the wall was a plush bench, then the table, then two chairs on the other side. The pair were beside each other on the bench, Lance’s arms wrapped tightly around Keith’s, the older boy’s head resting atop the brunet’s.  
James almost didn’t want to disturb them. But he was technically supposed to be on a date, though he wasn’t entirely sure what he’d walked into.  
He sat down in one of the chairs facing the couple, and they smiled widely at him.  
“I didn’t realize the two of you were…” James trailed off.  
“Together?” Keith supplied at the same time that Lance beamed, “Madly in love?”  
“Yeah,” the barista nodded. “And it’s okay that I was flirting with both of you?”  
“Well, it’d be a little awkward if you only flirted with one of us,” Lance mused, sucking on his straw. James struggled to pry his eyes away from the Cuban’s plump lips, forcing his confused gaze to rest on Keith’s relaxed expression.  
“We’re polyamorous,” the raven-haired boy explained. “And we’ve been looking for a third boyfriend who liked both of us as much as we both liked him.”  
“Everyone else we’ve flirted with has only been interested in one of us,” Lance made a face as though the room smelled of rotten eggs. “You’re the first one who’s equally flirted with us both.”  
James was quiet for a moment. He knew about polyamory, was intrigued by it, but he’d never gotten the opportunity to experience it. Hell, his monogamous experience was limited enough as it was.  
“So this was the plan from the beginning?” he inquired. “When I texted Lance to ask him out?”  
“Basically,” Lance nodded. “I told Keith about you making my drink before I even ordered it, and he told me about you misspelling his name, so we figured you might be the one.”  
“As long as I’m not crossing any boundaries,” James exhaled. “I’m not gonna lie – when I saw you two come in together, I was worried that I somehow horribly misunderstood the situation.”  
“Nah,” Lance grinned.  
“We still haven’t asked you if you’re interested,” Keith realized. “We want this, obviously. But do you? You can still back out. We won’t pressure you into anything.”  
“I don’t want to back out,” James replied quickly before composing himself. “I like you both, and I’d like to try being in a relationship with both of you.”  
Lance and Keith grinned at him, simultaneously sliding their free hands across the table. James met them in the middle, placing one hand in each of theirs, and his entire body tingled at the contact.  
“How about lunch?” Keith suggested. “We’ll talk and get to know each other a little better.”  
“That sounds perfect,” James exhaled, smiling shyly at the couple. They exited the café hand-in-hand, with James in the middle feeling euphoric.  
This outcome was a thousand times more pleasurable than he could have ever imagined.


	3. Lukadrienette - Full House

**Full House**  
**Luka x Marinette x Adrien**  
**Summary:** Now all grown up, the three miraculous heroes are ready to take on parenthood. Marinette is exhausted, and her boyfriends are insistent that she take a break.  
**A/N:** Set in a world where they don’t have to forfeit their miraculous if they discover each other’s identities, cuz that would be exhausting and them all fighting crime together is too cute.  
**Words:** 1,374

Adrien was surprised that little Celeste hadn’t burst a lung from how long and hard she’d been screaming. Most days, Marinette’s gentle touch and calming voice was enough to soothe the six-month-old, but it appeared that she simply wasn’t having it today. The heroine was at her wit’s end as she paced the living room floor, her daughter cradled to her chest. She had one hand supporting the baby’s weight while the other gently petted her blond hair, bouncing her slightly with every step.  
“Do you want me to take her?” Adrien offered for the umpteenth time, standing beside Marinette as she visibly grew more and more exhausted. Bags were forming under her eyes, her usually sleek midnight blue hair was twisted into a tangled bun, and there was a whine in her voice as she spoke to her daughter.  
“No, Adrien, I’ve got it,” she sighed sharply.  
“Marinette, you’re so tired,” Luka commented from where he sat on the couch. “Let us help. We’re in this together.”  
Celeste continued to cry, and Marinette’s bluebell eyes were watering as well.  
With a sigh, Adrien reached forward, gently securing his arms around the baby’s middle. He plucked her from Marinette’s tired grasp, tucking her head into his neck and gently shushing her.  
“Go lay down, love,” he insisted. “We can handle her.”  
“Come on,” Luka rose from his seat, wrapping an arm around his girlfriend’s waist to guide her to their shared bedroom. She leaned against his hold, her eyes drooping as she stumbled down the hallway. By the time they reached the bedroom, the heroine was asleep on her feet, all of her weight resting against Luka’s side. He smiled at her before crouching, hooking one arm around her back and the other under her knees, lifting her in his arms. Standing beside the bed, he gently laid her down, tucking her into the comforter. She immediately rolled onto her side, clutching Luka’s pillow in the same manner that she would him if he were laying beside her. With a soft chuckle, he leaned down to kiss her temple, brushing a hand across her disheveled hair before creeping out of the room.  
Returning to the living room, he found it quiet, and turned towards the couch to see that Adrien was laying down with Celeste snoring on his chest. His hand was rubbing soft circles into her back, and Luka mused that such contact was how he’d managed to soothe her.  
He perched himself on the arm of the couch with a smile. “If she’d just accept our help once in a while, maybe she wouldn’t be so tired.”  
Adrien snorted softly. “You know how she is. She wants to save everyone as much trouble as she can.”  
“Even if it causes her more,” Luka nodded. He rose from his perch and crossed the length of the couch, kneeling down beside Adrien’s head. The blond smiled tiredly as he continued to cuddle their sleeping daughter. The guitarist lifted a hand, gently patting Celeste’s golden hair. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to Adrien’s, humming softly against the blond’s mouth.  
“You go lay with Marinette,” Adrien murmured. “She sleeps better with a partner.”  
“Come with me,” Luka insisted. “I’ll put Celeste in her crib.”  
The blond hesitated for nodding. Luka carefully plucked the sleeping baby from Adrien’s arms, cradling her to his chest as he stood. Holding her with one hand, he offered the other to the cat hero, helping him rise from the couch. They stopped in Celeste’s room in the hallway, and Luka carefully set her down and tucked her in. He ensured that her mobile was twirling and singing to keep her soothed, and he checked that the baby monitor was still fully charged before he crept out of the room. He met Adrien in the master bedroom, stripping down to a tank top and boxers. Luka tugged out of his clothes and pulled on a pair of sweatpants before the two men climbed into bed on either side of Marinette. She rolled over, tucking her head into Adrien’s chest. Adrien smiled as he wrapped his arms around her back, and Luka settled in behind her, securing his arms around her waist.  
“Goodnight,” he murmured softly, closing his eyes.  
“Goodnight,” Adrien returned as he drifted off.

Celeste was now three years old, and very curious about the bundle of blue in Mommy’s arms. Marinette danced through the living room, gently cooing to the baby she cradled, shushing his cries. Footsteps thumped softly across the carpet, and Marinette turned, a soft smile on her lips. Luka stood before her, arms open, offering her a break. She was hesitant to take it, but after fighting back another yawn, she relented, passing the baby to his father.  
“You’d think after three years and two kids that you’d let us help out,” the guitarist teased as he shifted his weight from foot to foot, rocking the baby in his arms.  
“I’m sorry,” Marinette pouted, her arms dropping to her sides. “You know I don’t like to rest.”  
“You’re a workaholic,” Adrien taunted as he swept Celeste into his arms, letting her cling to his neck. “It was the same thing when we were teenage superheroes. Getting Ladybug to accept help was like pulling teeth.”  
“Come on, guys,” the heroine whined. “I’m not that bad!”  
Both of her boyfriends leveled her with a look, and she raised her hands in surrender.  
“Fine,” she relented. “I work too much. I’ll try to take more breaks, I promise.”  
“You have us for a reason, you know,” Luka reminded as he shuffled into the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of breast milk from the fridge, uncapping it and placing it in the microwave. “We assisted in the creation of these two little rascals – we want to assist in raising them, too.”  
“Exactly,” Adrien agreed, placing Celeste in her highchair and buckling the safety belt. He then adjusted her so that she was facing the dining room table and gently urged Marinette to sit down beside her before he padded into the kitchen. “They’re our kids too, Bugaboo. And we don’t want our beautiful girlfriend running herself ragged.”  
Marinette had long outgrown her adolescent naivety and no longer blushed when Adrien or Luka complimented her. Their words did, however, warm her heart, reminding her just how much she was loved, and in turn, how much she loved them.  
Adrien returned to the table with a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich for Celeste, and turkey-and-cheese sandwiches for himself and Marinette. Before she could question the location of their other boyfriend and child, Luka rounded the corner, cradling baby Hunter in one arm, his other hand holding his own sandwich. He sat down on Marinette’s other side and placed his food on the table, allowing him to rest Hunter against his chest and ensure that his bottle stayed in place against his lips. Hunter’s thick blue locks hung just above his eyes, framing his fair-skinned face.  
The family of five ate lunch in soft, domestic harmony, until Hunter fell asleep and Luka carried him to his crib. Celeste whimpered to be released from her highchair, to which Adrien complied after cleaning the remains of her lunch from her hands and face.  
Marinette moved to sit on the couch, watching as Luka dropped down beside her. She snuggled into his warmth as Adrien sat down on her other side, Celeste balanced on his lap, leaning back against his chest. With one hand, he held Marinette’s; with the other, he picked up the tv remote, turning on Celeste’s favorite show. The toddler hummed happily as she got comfortable, tucking her blanket around herself and curling into Adrien’s arm.  
There they sat as Celeste and Hunter napped, with Adrien switching to a more adult show once he was certain his daughter was asleep. Luka nudged his shoulder with his hand, and Adrien turned to silently question the reason. Before he could quirk a brow, his gaze found a slumbering Marinette, clinging to Luka’s waist, mouth open to release soft snores. He grinned at the sight, meeting his boyfriend’s similar expression before turning his attention back to the tv. Before too long, both Adrien and Luka fell asleep as well.


End file.
